Dystopia
by Jessibelle811
Summary: In a bleak future, a grown Sofia must struggle against her new reality when a dark sorcerer takes the throne. Rated M. Warning inside.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hey, I'm not dead! I've received some lovely PM's lately reminding me that there are still people out there who enjoy my crazy brain-ramblings and would like to see more. I can't promise much by way of organization, but I feel it is time to dive back into the archive of WIP's and try to clear out my computer. As of right now I'm not sure if this will be a full-blown story or a stand alone one-shot.

This particular story idea came to me while surfing through pinterest. The picture that inspired it can be found here, if you can decode the way I have tow write it out so our beloved fan fiction dot net doesn't erase the link: pinterest dot com / pin / 552535448024318206 /

Warning: This story is dark for me. It contains scenes of violence (at times graphic) and sexual assault (not graphic in detail but in suggestion).

Sofia is twenty at the beginning of this story.

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Dystopia: Prologue (?)

* * *

The birdsong hadn't woken her, only kept company with the insomnia as the sky lightened from black to purple to blue. As the birds chittered to one another, she kept her mind busy trying to identify their calls. _That bright twitter belonging to a pair of robins. Those short, sharp tweets a group of finches. The deeper call, a nuthatch?_ Their language was foreign without her amulet so she had to rely tenuous skill to pick out each wild voice. She couldn't begin to understand, but she liked to pretend they were speaking to her. Offering comforts in their own way. Occasionally, one would stop on a particular branch and peer through the window at her, cocking its head curiously at the human woman beyond the glass.

She stared back, too tired to move.

 _Tired_ wasn't the right word. Far too flimsy to encompass the bone-deep weariness that no amount of sleep could remedy. _Rest is useless when you're weary of life itself._

The sun rose higher as another tedious day wore on. A long slash of warm light across her face. The sharpness of it bit into her eyes, but she didn't so much as move. Moving meant setting off the erratic jangle of chains; their constant clinking preyed upon the nerves, so she stayed still as possible. The mattress bore a slight grove from her favored spot, lying on her side, staring through the gauzy bed curtains out the window. The desire for freedom had shrank with time, but never disappeared. With a only few oak branches and a small patch of sky beyond as her only view of the whole wide world, she longed to know the fate of her kingdom.

 _Her kingdom_ , the thought still so strange. _Hers, because there was no one else left._

Uncertainty over the fate of her people cut deeper than knowing ever could. Perhaps not knowing was a secret blessing in her condition. If she knew the state of Enchancia she would process and problem-solve and scheme ways to _help_. She liked to solve. To act. But she could do nothing. The certainty of her inefficacy grated until she wished to scream.

Some days she had screamed. Shouted until her throat burned, yanking viciously against the chains that bound her. No one came to answer her cries. No guards bothered to subdue her. There was no need. Each futile struggle only left her drained and drowning in despair.

How long had it been? Her memory couldn't quite contain the compendium of endless days. Months had passed, surely. Had it been so long as a year? The trees outside the window had time to wither, leaves going green to orange before dying and falling away. The bare branches had frosted with ice, her only view for long endless days that felt like eternity until the sun finally came again, melting away the cold. Now the trees bore green buds again and the birds had returned brining their gentle friendly chatter with them. Spring come to bring new life. New hope.

There was no joy left to be found in these simple things. She'd long since stopped shrinking from the knowledge that she'd end her own existence is she only had the means. Each time she closed her eyes, she wished to never open them again, but something inside her seemed stubbornly determined to survive.

All she had left was survival, one moment to the next. One breath in, one breath out. No future. No hope …

It had happened in the spring. The kingdom overthrown in one unassuming afternoon. The bright blue sky turned to ash as _he_ took power.

Memories of blood and death and pain filled her up, brimming over in a constant spill that somehow left her feeling empty. Her eyes slid closed, but she was past tears. Phantom screams rang inside her skull. The death scream of countless innocents, but it was her mother's that stood out in her memory. The one that would not be banished no matter how she gritted her teeth against the memory. The sound and the sight. _The smell of charred flesh stinging her nostrils. And then …_

 _A fine spray of warm blood spattered across Sofia's cheek. Not her own but Amber's, as the blonde's life was cut short not with a scream but a wet burble from her gapping throat. Sofia's own knees trembled, weak with terror but refusing to buckle. Standing rigid and terrified awaiting her own death. Prepared for it even, only to hear the insidious voice of her family's murderer whisper, "Not you, my dear. Not today. I have such plans for you, Sofia."_

A dim, cheerful whistling came from the hall, bringing her sharply back to the present. Fear pounced, pinning her down. He should have long lost the power to affect her, but his very presence still made her skin crawl. Without meaning to, she drew her knees up, the chains around her ankles pulling tight. _Perhaps_ , she thought (trying hard not to call it hope), _he's not interested in me today_.

The whistling rose in pitch as he stopped just outside the door. He was always in a good mood when he came to her, no matter how she cursed at him or spat in his smug face. She heard the locks pull back, no jangle of a key, just silent magic.

Her eyes slid open just as the door did, but she refused to look in his direction. His fussy heeled shoes clicked across the marble, the tune on his lips never wavering. It finally cut short as the curtains slid back and he sat on the bed.

"Good morning, my dear," he fairly sang with greeting, "and how are we this fine day?"

Her jaw clamped, determined to say nothing. But he waited, forcing tension humming through her bones until every part of her clenched so hard she thought she'd shatter.

In a voice gravelly from disuse, she ground out a curt, "Fuck you."

"Tisk, tisk," he clicked his tongue, completely unbothered. "Such language from such a pretty little princess."

Her stomach churned with a fresh wave of nausea as he picked up a skein of her lank hair, caressing it through his pale fingers. Determined not to shrink away, she steeled her nerves and met his amused gaze with a flinty glare.

"What?" He snickered. "Not happy to see your old friend?"

"We were never friends. You were only after my amulet from the start."

"Yes." His smile turned oily. "And now I have it. And you as well."

She couldn't help the quick flicker over his clothes, even knowing he'd never bring it here. When he sidled closer, she tore her gaze away, blanking her expression. His nose leisurely nuzzled her neck and it took everything in her not to jerk away. This was the game he liked to play. One she hated with every bit of her soul. Hated with an intensity she never imagined possible. Hated just as much as she hated him.

"You can pretend you don't care, but we both know it's a lie." He moved away to slip off his robe. The rest of his clothing followed. Her thighs clenched together. Inside she hated that small voice that still pleaded, _Please, please, don't hurt me. Not again—_ While popping open the buttons of his shirt, he went back to the game. "No one will ever rescue you, you know?"

She knew. There was no one left. He'd seen to it.

His shirt peeled back, showing off a chest well-defined for a man his age. Each shoe dropped to the floor before he climbed onto the bed.

She stayed as still as possible, beginning the careful process of detaching mind from body. A means of distraction, that was the key _. The birds chirping merrily outside._ _What do they say to one another? What do their calls mean?_ She pictured a nest, a pair of robins bending over three little hatchings, one happy family.

Warm breath wrapped around her ear in a silky whisper. "Your family is dead. Your step-father, your mother, those insipid twins who foolishly thought they could stand between me and what I wanted. What I always craved…" His lips grazed her cheek. "More power."

She flinched. _The birds, focus on them, on their song._

He grabbed a hank of hair and pulled, angry over her lost attention. "Your family is gone, as are all your loyal servants. That steward, foolish old man. Your idiot maid, who thought to put herself between me and your door. I cut them all down, and they fell like wheat before the sickle." His voice dropped to a soft hiss. "I killed them all."

She closed her eyes, knowing what came next in this well-worn litany of pain. _Be with the birds, feel the sunshine on their backs, freedom flying beneath their wings._

Cold lips pressed a dry kiss below her ear. "Oh, and who else? Who am I forgetting?"

 _Stop-it! Stop-it! Stop!_ She wanted to scream but kept her lips tightly sealed. She refused to offer him the satisfaction of her pain. Traitorous tears gathered beneath her lids.

"Oh yes, I remember," he crooned almost gently. "Your sorcerer. I killed Cedric myself."

She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, focusing on this new pain rather than old wounds ripped open.

"He died as he lived," he continued, "a failure and a coward."

"You're a liar," she snarled, the words out before she could draw them back.

He had her now, knew how his words affected even as she feigned indifference. "It's just as well he's dead, you know. What would he think of you now, knowing you've become nothing more than Grimtrix the Great's whore?"

The old insult should have long since lost its power. Tears broke free, sliding down her cheeks, but she didn't bother wiping them away. Images of her old mentor played across her memory— his unusual hair, long features, and softly smiling eyes. Grimtrix pressed her back into the bed and she tried to hold the image so at least she'd no longer be alone.

"Look at you," he sneered over her, "not even fighting anymore. I think you've begun to enjoy my … _attentions_."

Her eyes snapped open, unable to deny the anger any longer. "You misbegotten son of a—"

The triumphant sneer was wiped from his face when she smashed the only weapon at her disposal, her manacled wrist, down on his head. A bright gash opened across his brow. He clutched the wound, hissing at the pain. Incensed beyond indifference or reason, Sofia thrashed where his hips pinned her to the bed. She shrieked like a banshee, calling him every foul name she could remember and inventing more when necessary. Her blunted nails raked at any expanse of unprotected flesh.

"You bitch," he snarled. With a snap he summoned the Shushers. Those ruthless ghostly hands pressed tight over her mouth, more holding her arms and legs. No amount of bucking could throw them off, but she tried all the same. Any hope for escape, mental or physical, was lost. She'd played into his game and lost. He liked her _aware_ and suffering.

He moved over top of her again, blotting out the sunlight with his body. Heavy drops of blood dripped down the side of his face and fell onto her. His lips pulled back in a feral grimace that might have been a smile. "I almost wish Cedric was alive to see his pretty princess now."

* * *

Author's Note: Again, not sure what I'm going to do with this. I could just leave this here, all horrible and open-ended. But … I _probably_ won't. Updates, if they come, will probably be slow. Writing hasn't been a focus lately, but I do feel the itch coming back.

Sorry I don't have something more cheerful or sexy to post. I have approximately two dozen unfinished stories on my computer, but this was the only piece complete enough to post.

Reviews, please. Love it, hate it, want to throttle me, let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Here is a little bit more on this story. Still not sure if it will go further, but this should at least give readers a semblance of closure.

* * *

Dystopia: Chapter One

* * *

Sofia woke to the deep darkness of midnight. It was a sound that had woken her. One that had no place in her secluded prison.

To punish her for the gash to the head, Grimtex had denied any food or water for the remainder of the day. Once he'd finished with her, she'd pulled her clothes on as best she could, curled into a ball, and slept to escape. Now, waking hours later, the pain had settled in, pounding between her temples and aching in her limbs. The Shushers' left deep fingerprint bruises all along her arms and legs. She no longer bothered to linger over the other places that ached from his barbaric treatment.

In the darkness another small, soft sound brought her straining senses into a state of alarm. The unmistakable sound of voices murmuring outside her door— _male voices_ — and the low whimpering squeal of a slowly turned doorknob. Grimtrex had never come to her at night before. Maybe she'd finally goaded him too far. He'd often threatened to turn the guards loose on her, a threat that used to terrify her until she realized his arrogance would never allow anyone the use of any thing he considered one of his possessions. As her door creaked quietly open, she had to question her previous certainty.

A thin sliver of hallway light slicing across the floor showing two hulking shadows on the far wall. Only a flash, smothered quickly by the hastily closed door. They strove for quiet, but tuned up with fear, her senses caught every whisper of their boots across the marble tiles. Fantastically paranoid, Grimtrex had had the carpets removed as a precaution against any would-be assassins hoping to sneak into the castle undiscovered.

Assassins? Was that what these men were? She's long since accepted that she would die inside the castle, probably in this very bed, but assumed Grimtrex would wish to perform the deed himself. Despite her rabbitty pulse screaming _I'm about to die!,_ she felt a vicious spark of triumph. The bastard couldn't stomach killing her himself.

' _Who's the coward now?'_ she thought acidly.

"You're sure?" One man whispered barely above a breath.

"Of course not," the other hissed back equally low. "There is no way to be sure. The spy said this is the room he frequents most."

They lapsed back into silence and she heard a low sibilant hiss. Metal scraping against hard leather. A dagger drawn from its sheath.

She was to be stabbed then. Or perhaps her throat cut. She hoped for the latter as it would still be painful but mercifully quick. Better then what she'd imagined, having the life choked out of her by one of Grimtrex's phantom hands.

Death should come as a blessing, but her traitorous heart sang with life, pleading for survival. Straining to see without moving, the edge of her vision just caught sight of a large shadow as it split into two. They moved silently to either side of the bed. One stood before her, but she took only cursory notice as the one at her back held the dagger. Increasingly improbable options dashed through her mind. She had no defenses, only her chains and those hadn't worked so well before. Was it possible to save herself from these cutthroats? Could she somehow steal their dagger, free herself, and escape? Not escape, she amended the plan quickly. If armed, she'd have one purpose: to end Grimtrex and his black reign.

Impossible. All of it. She'd be lucky to survive the next five minutes.

Without warning a fierce ball of light burst into existence before her face blinding her dark-accustomed eyes. She jerked reflexively away, silently cursing the lost element of surprise, the only thing that might have worked in her favor.

She closed her eyes and waited for the bite of the knife.

Seconds crawled by, perhaps only ten or twelve together, but they stretched into a breathless eternity. Sofia dared to open her eyes just a little. The light hung before her face, wavering. No, not wavering, _shaking_.

"It isn't him," the one at her back, the one with the dagger, growled.

The little light dropped, slipping into the rumples sheets where it continued emitting a steady, if muted, glow. The light sprang from a slender twisted length of unpainted wood. A wand, she realized. Wands were forbidden things now. Grimtrex had ordered them destroyed, along with any magic handler found in possession of one.

Entranced by the forbidden wand, so much more useful than a common dagger, she didn't see the hand reach from the darkness towards her. When it touched her shoulder, she jerked violently back. The hand let go immediately.

"S-Sofia?"

Spots danced in her eyes making it hard to see beyond the halo of light, but the familiarity of the voice, hoarse though it was, was unmistakable. Blinking, her sight slowly cleared.

"I'm delirious," she mumbled, taking in the achingly familiar eyes and unmistakable hair. His expression, though, was unlike anything she'd ever seen on his long features before.

"James," he whispered roughly. "James, its Sofia. She's— She's alive."

 _James?_ She tore her gaze from the comforting delusion before her to turn towards the second intruder. His features were less familiar, still framed by an untidy mop of sandy hair but the eyes were harder than she remembered. An angry weal-like scar bisected his left cheek, skimming close to the eye and down over the corner of his lips. The dagger wavered, still raised in his hands, but he was unmistakably her brother.

"Not delirious," she muttered to herself, stirring weakly against the deep ache of her whole body. James, alive, and Cedric too. It was too much to believe, let alone hope for. "I must be dead. Thank the gods."

James seemed not to have noticed her, lost inside his own shock. "Grimtrex isn't here. This isn't his room."

"No Grimtrex isn't here," Cedric snapped, straining for quiet. He lifted one chain, examining it. "The plan has changed. We are leaving and we're taking Sofia with us."

With a blink and a shake of his head, James seemed to come to his senses. The blade lowered. "Yes, of course. Gods, Sof, we thought you were dead."

"I thought the same of you. Both of you." Was this real? It couldn't be. The corners of her eyes burned, too dry to materialize true tears. She turned back towards Cedric. The chain hung from his hands but his eyes surveyed the purple marks along her arms with an expression of deepening concern. For the first time in a year she considered how she must appear, half-starved, bruised, and chained to a bed. Cedric met her eyes, a dark understanding in his gaze. She fought to hold it.

"He told me he killed you," she whispered.

"He tried, but he failed." His hand touched her cheek carefully, as if afraid she'd pull away. It was then she noticed the knotted tangle of scars along the back of his hand, as if the skin had once burned and healed over. "By the gods, Sofia, if I known— If I'd even suspected that you still lived …"

James shifted to stand on the same side of the bed. "Sof, where is Grimtrex? Where does he sleep?"

She blinked away the daze brought on by Cedric's fleeting touch. A harsh light shown through her brother's once playful eyes and she realized why they'd really come, to kill the king.

"I don't know," she answered regretfully.

"Of course she doesn't," Cedric hissed. Pulling the chain tight, he wrapped his fist around it. It began to glow beneath his grasp, smoking faintly. The red-hot metal softened, melting apart to severe the chain from it's mooring in the floor. Her right hand was her own again, though weighed down by the remaining manacle and short length of chain. Those could be removed later, all that matter was being free.

Hazed out by the events, all equally unlikely, happening one after the other, she could only spare a fleeting notice that Cedric had used his bare hands to perform whatever magic broke her chains. The idea that this was all a pleasant delusion brought on by impending death returned. Hand magic was supposed to be impossible.

James persisted. "Have you never seen his quarters?"

Cedric paused over the second chain long enough to gape at him. "Are you fucking kidding me, James?"

When James gave him a hard look, Cedric didn't relent, only gripped this chain harder, melting it faster. "The mission is a failure, _your highness_ ," the sorcerer sneered, pronouncing the title just on the edge of insult, "Circumstances have changed. We are getting out of here. Now."

The prince— _king?_ — looked about to argue, but Cedric turned his attention to the task of freeing the remaining bonds. James shut his mouth, but Sofia saw the muscles of his jaw working, his eyes hard in the dull wandlight. She opened her mouth, unsure if there was anything she could say to this man who was proving so very different from the brother she used to know. Nothing came to mind before they were interrupted by a scuffle from the hall.

James went to the door, easing it open just enough to peer out. "We've been discovered." He cursed. "We need to hurry if we hope to get out with our skins."

Sofia distinctly saw Cedric roll his eyes. An incongruent fondness warmed her chest and she very nearly smiled. Cedric's thoughts at least were still plain to her. ' _What have I been saying, you overblown nitwit?'_ suggested his disdainfully lifted eyebrow. Only the last chain remained, the one around her left hand. She sat up, groaning.

"Can you walk?" Cedric asked without looking up from his work.

"I'm not sure. It's been a long time," she mumbled.

Fresh shame washed through her. She hadn't much cause to admit how far she'd allowed her spirits to fall, nor her body to fail. She had expected to die, giving up all hope for rescue or escape. The shame came from the memory of her former self, the woman Cedric and James remembered. _She_ would have been prepared for this day. _That_ Sofia would be a help, not a hindrance.

The last chain fell, cooled instantly. She shifted off the bed, attempting stand. Her legs trembled so badly she didn't dare try a step.

"Hurry," James called, putting the dagger away to unsheathe a long sword.

Cedric tucked his wand up his sleeve then bent to scoop her up just as her knees buckled. Being held felt strange, awakening a tiny panic in the pit of her stomach. Sofia smothered the irrational feeling as best she could and turned her attention to the present. Cedric could have gotten stronger, but she was also painfully thin.

James gave one quick nod before thrusting the door wide. Sounds of fighting men, clashing steel and grunts of pain, spilled inside. He rush out, joining a loose band of men in cobbled garb. Their piecemeal armor, mostly toughened leather hauberks over chain-mail, stood out against Grimtrex's neatly uniformed guards. Without hesitation James thrust his sword towards one's unguarded thigh. Efficiently, he cut the sliced through a gap in polished armor. Blood spurted from a severed femoral artery, and James wheeled towards a new opponent. The first guard went down futilely clutching, trying to stem the gush of blood. He was dead within moments.

James snarled with an expression fiercer than any Sofia had ever seen him wear before, "Month of planning wasted."

Cedric slipped into the open hallway, heading opposite to the skirmish. Perhaps she should have felt offense that James seemed to care so little that she lived, but she wished Grimtrex's death just as much, if not more, than he. She didn't begrudge his single-minded focus but was equally grateful that Cedric seemed occupied with her safety.

Parrying the thrust of a sword, James turned to kick the wielder in the chest, sending the man stumbling back. More men spilled down the hall towards them.

"James!" Cedric barked over his shoulder, shifting Sofia to get a better hold. She tried to suppress the groan it caused. The events of the night swept up on her, turning the world gray at the edges as she fought for consciousness.

James stabbed at another guard, missed and the tip of his blade skidded across an armored breastplate with a high squeal of metal against metal. He curse again, quickly assessing their rapidly dwindling chances.

He raised his sword high, shouting a command, "To your king!"

The plain dressed men fell into loose formation as their small party backed down the hall, away from the guards that were quickly out numbering them. Even in retreat Grimtrex's men still gained.

They'd never make it, Sofia realized in dismay. Her fears manifested into visions before her open eyes. They'd be captured, James and Cedric killed, perhaps slowly and vividly while Grimtrex forced her to watch, And she'd go back to that godsforsaken bed. A violent tremble seized her, as out of her control as the inevitable conclusion to their wild flight.

James came up beside them. His misshapen lips twisted in a battle snarl. "Anytime you want to put that magic of yours to use, sorcerer."

"Damn it," Cedric muttered, then murmured low enough for only her to hear, "Can you grab hold of my neck?"

She tried, using the last of her strength to get hold of his shoulders as he took away the support of his arm around her back. Aiming his bare palm, the one gnarled with scars, towards the encroaching men he grumbled a guttural litany of sounds she assumed to be words of another language. Beneath her hands, his skin grew uncomfortably hot.

Blackness roiled from his palm like oily smoke. It unfurled, reaching towards the guards in ghastly fingers and for a moment Sofia was reminded unpleasantly of Grimtrex's Shushers. James's men backed away, apparently knowing to stay out of reach. Grimtrex's men had no such foresight. They plowed onward, batting the smog away without concern. Sofia's heart sank, thinking the spell, whatever it was, a failure. But the smoke clung to the guards as they passed. I crept across their chests, reaching upwards towards neck and face. It spiraled inside their open mouths and flared nostrils.

Weapons clattered to the floor as men began to fail, buckling to the ground, clawing that their throats. Their eyes bulged, mouths gasping for air that wouldn't come. They were suffocating, she realized. More than a dozen men dying before her eyes.

Cedric held her tightly again, resuming their flight. Sofia continued to stare over his shoulder, unable to look away from the bodies, some still writhing weakly. Purple veins crawled across their faces and hands, turning their skin blueish-black. Their empty staring eyes glazed over black, creating empty-looking pits in their sunken faces. The remaining guards held back, unwilling to risk crossing the deadly haze, nor attempting to pull their compatriots free.

She continued to stare long after they slipped down a dark passage and came bursting out under a clouded night sky. Cool air struck her face, the smell of grass and fresh air marking her first taste of freedom. Ducking into a near copse of trees, the sight of the forest filled her with a deep longing, edged sharply with sadness. The castle had been her prison, a sight of unholy horror, but before that it had been her home. It held the last of her mother and her sister, their deaths she was certain as she'd witnessed them, and she was leaving it behind, the good with the bad.

Deep into the widening forest they crossed a hastily constructed bridge over a narrow finger of the river that ringed the castle. Just beyond a contingency of men waited with a clutch of skinny horses.

"Sire," one called, stepping forward. Unlike the rest, his armor was mostly complete. "Is it done?"

"No, Captain, we were not successful." James spat on the ground. Then, as if an afterthought, he added, "But we discovered Princess Sofia, and recovered her."

Several of the men feigned grim smiles, but she could tell that they cared mostly for the failed plot against their unjust ruler. She couldn't blame them, nor stir the energy to spend on false cheer or warmth for them. The bone-deep fatigue that had worn on her all day began to drag in earnest. She sagged against Cedric's chest, not entirely voluntarily.

The captain frowned. "At least the royal line survives. I should have gone in your stead, your highness. You should not have risked yourself."

James moved to mount the horse another soldier brought forward. "I wanted to plunge my dagger into that bastard's black heart myself."

The captain took to his own mount, only then taking her in with hard, unfeeling eyes. Sofia disliked him immediately, even more so when he pronounced, "The princess should ride with me. She'll be safest that way."

James nodded, almost negligently.

"No," Sofia cried with more strength than she felt. She clutched at Cedric's shirt, digging her nails into it to anchor herself. She didn't wish to plead, but she found herself saying, "I want to stay with you."

"I can keep watch over the princess," Cedric answer, with a deal more authority and less grouse in his voice than she was accustomed to.

"With all due respect, Sorcerer, you can barely keep to you saddle without the impediment of another," said the captain mildly.

"With all due respect, Captain Roderick," Cedric sneered in a way that was a bit more familiar to her, "bouncing around on a crazed animal with toothpicks for legs is the last place Sofia should be. I have my own ways of getting her away from this cursed place."

Roderick's lips pressed together, and Sofia had the impression he was put out by more than Cedric's light admonishment. "Sire," he began an appeal to James, "I don't think it wise to let the princess out of our sight—"

"Relax," James offered a quirk of the mouth that was almost a smile. It softened his face considerably, showing a shadow of the boy he once was and a hint of the prince he would be now had their family lived and their kingdom thrived. "We've only just found her. If I know anything in this life, it's that Cedric will not let any harm come to her again."

Cedric offered a terse nod to the affirmative. The matter settled, the remaining men made to rally their mounts. Shouts from the castle sounded as torches flowed into the surrounding woods. Their entire exchange had lasted less than a few moments, but castle guards would be upon them soon. Fear clutched dug icy nails deep in her chest. Now that she'd tasted freedom, she knew she would rather die before being captured again.

Cedric held her tightly.

"You'll want to brace yourself," he said grimly, "Traveling distances by magic can be quite … overwhelming."

This she knew and managed a nod. The fatigue she'd fought off began pulling her down despite any desire to remain awake. There was a pressure and a pull as they dissolved into smoke and finally, peacefully, she surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

Author's Note: Cedric's alive! Was there ever really any doubt? Again, I'm not sure if I'll keep going with this into a full-blown story. I do have more written for it, but time will tell. I wanted to at least get it to a more hopeful place.

Thank you for the PM's sent over the past year since my last posting. If you're interested in a more details explanation f where I've been for the past year, you can read a little bit about my story on my author's profile. I don't have much free time nowadays, but I am still writing, and hope to post more soon. No promises, unfortunately.

Reviews please!


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